


Creative Burnout

by iamavacado



Series: Some Sanders Sides Stories [9]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Imagination, Light Angst, Prinxiety - Freeform, creative burnout, good friend, platonic, virgil conjures stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 22:45:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamavacado/pseuds/iamavacado
Summary: As it turns out, creating the same things over and over again can lead to creative burnout. Virgil decides to take Roman mid crisis and offer some help.





	Creative Burnout

**Author's Note:**

> Since IVE been in a creative slump lately, and have had this fic sitting in my WIPS for like, 2 months, I decided to make this about Roman getting tired of creating all the time. Being the dreamy fantasy guy must get tiring once in a while.

“Have you ever thought about it?”

The night was cool and still. Stars were scattered against the dark purple sky. For a moment, Virgil was reminded of how, in a painting, after someone painted a galaxy or a sky, they'd put white paint on a toothbrush and flick it onto the page. You could put as many stars as you'd like, and it'd always look beautiful, and real, and nothing like an actual sky.

He and Roman were laying on the grass outside the house, staring up at the sky. Wind was blowing gently, causing the scent of the nearby flowers to float over their noses. They lay on a blanket, next to each other. Roman’s hands were at his side, while Virgil propped his head up with his arms crossed behind it. It was calm, which was unusual for them. Patton and Logan were fast asleep in their beds.

“Thought about what?” Virgil asked, voice barely intercepting the comfortable silence that had built between them. Roman had snuck in his room that night, and woken him up with hand-sewn blankets and soda in hand. He couldn't say no. Besides, he could use a night out anyway.

Roman didn't say anything for a minute. He stared up at the sky, fingers twisting around grass and pulling bits out of the ground, letting them float away in the breeze. He sighed, and almost embarrassed, he said, “Running away.”

Virgil turned his head to look at him. Roman's eyes were half closed, mouth slightly ajar as he breathed in the fresh air. He searched somewhere in Roman’s face for a joke, but he couldn't find any. His expression was uncharacteristically somber as he stared up at the sky. “Where to?” asked Virgil. It wasn't the question he meant to ask, but it was the first one that came out of his mouth.

Roman shrugged. He pulled another handful of grass out of the ground, letting the wind take it wherever it blew. “I don't know. Away. Somewhere.”

Virgil tilted his head to the side in confusion. Roman had the entire universe at his fingertips at all times. Being the creative, adventurous side, he had the skill to conjure any kind of fantasy world he wanted: escaping into clouds or castles with dashing young princes or deep forests with tall trees. The only thing stopping him was his own imagination, so why run away into the world, which was surely less impressive than anything he could come up with?

“Roman,” Virgil said slowly, “you know that--”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He echoed Virgil's thoughts. “Why would I venture out into the world when I have every conceivable world sitting in my closet? Well, I don't know. Sometimes you want to see what someone else has to offer.” He sighed deeply. “Sometimes you get tired of doing all the work.”

Virgil considered this, slightly confused. “All the work?” He thought Roman loved doing the work like that. He was always antsy, jumping from one project to another before he could even settle down and enjoy the work he'd done on the first one. He needed to be doing something, anything, at all times: Helping, singing, creating, dancing, painting, performing, studying for the next big thing. Roman was a mover. He liked to move. He needed to move. It was what he lived for. What he was created for.

So why did his eyes look so heavy?

“I'm just tired, Virgil,” said Roman, seeming to answer the question he hadn't said out loud. “I'm tired of it because I create it. I know the inside and out of all of the worlds I make.” He paused, voice going quieter. “I know all their flaws.” He turned his head to look at Virgil. “I know where the dragons are, and I know how to beat them. I know how to save the prince and I know where secret caves are, and I know which animal will be where and just exactly how to tame it. There's no--” he made fists, trying to think of the word-- “mystery.”

The next question sounded idiotic coming out of his mouth. “Can't you just make a world where you don't know those things?”

Roman scoffed, laughing crudely. “That's not how it works, Virgil.” He stared back up at the sky, letting out a long breath. “If I create the world, I have to know what's in it. There's avoiding that. I'm not a computer program.”

Virgil lay back down on the grass, crossing his arms behind his head. “None of us are, I guess. Is there anything I can do?” To help. Virgil didn't have much, but he did have himself. Maybe a hug or a squeeze of the hand. Or an attempt at baking some of those red velvet cupcakes that were Roman’s favorite. Or one of those smiles that Roman liked so much that Virgil absolutely loathed because he didn't like smiling with teeth. Whatever he could do.

Roman shrugged. “No. Not unless you can make your own world. But I doubt it.”

“Why do you doubt it?”

Roman lowered his voice, doing his best to mimic the way Virgil talked. “'Creativity is not my department.’” 

Virgil cringed at that memory. But, he had to agree. “I guess.” Creativity was definitely not his department, but that was by choice. He could be pretty creative when he wanted to. Even by accident.

“Not that I don't appreciate you trying, Virgil,” Roman quickly added. “I do. It's just…”

“It gets to be too much sometimes?”

Roman nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

“I can understand that.” Virgil repositioned himself, half paying attention to whatever Roman said next. The gears were starting to turn in his head. He had an inkling of an idea. It wasn't something he'd done before, and he probably wouldn't be good at it, but it would be something. “But...um…maybe…”

“Hm?”

Virgil turned himself so he was propped up on his elbow facing Roman. “Maybe you wouldn't have to...run away...to experience something new.”

Roman turned to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

Virgil didn't say anything, but he kind of looked down at the grass, then back up. And he was smirking a little. Some from nerves, some from the excitement of a new idea. He shrugged. And Roman understood.

“Virgil, you would-- you-- wait.” He propped himself up too. “You can do that?”

“I mean, I think so. I've never tried. But I bet I could. You can. Why can't I?” He gestured at himself, his clothes. “I made these. I can make other things too.”

“But, like you said, it isn't--”

“No, it's not my department, but I'm sure I can do it. Your department isn't being anxious, but what do you do every night before something big?”

Roman looked bashful. “I pace the hallway.”

“You pace the hallway. That's _it?_ Are you sure you don't completely freak, and tell me how the show is going to fall apart, and how you'll choke onstage, or someone else will choke and you'll have to cover for them, or how the set will fall on top of you during act two?”

“To be fair,” Roman said, trying to defend himself, “it's you who makes me think that.”

Virgil shook his head. “Nope. I spend the day with Logan for that reason. He's there to talk me into calming down with reasoning. That whole...drama--” he gestured to Roman with a sweeping arm-- “thing? That you do? That's you. So. Different departments, same building.”

Roman gave in, and agreed to what Virgil was saying. So, perhaps someone _could_ perform duties that weren't exactly in their original job descriptions, so...what? What did that mean? Roman had an inkling of what Virgil was implying, but thinking about it, and it actually being true were two different things.

“Virgil,” Roman started, slowly, cautiously, “So, you're saying...that...just to be clear, that, um…”

“Let me make something for you,” Virgil finished for him. “I can create a world too.” Roman just looked at him curiously. “It may not be as amazing as yours, but it's something new.”

Roman looked at him, pondering. Virgil's face was hopeful, tired. His eyes were shining in the way they did when he had an idea, and when Roman looked down, he saw that Virgil's hands were closed into fists against the blanket. Something he also did when he had an idea.

He looked back up. Met his eyes. A smile found its way onto Roman's face. “Alright.”

***

They stood in the middle of Roman's room. Virgil glanced around, trying to draw inspiration from the vibe. He pulled his sleeves over his hands.

“How does this normally work?” asked Virgil. “How do you usually start it?”

“Well--” Roman made his way over to his bed and flopped on it-- “I don't really have to think about it. I just see it in my head, and then it's in front of me.” He paused. “And of course, to be dramatic, I snap my fingers or wiggle my nose, but that's just for effect.”

Virgil half chuckled, but it was more out of nervousness, because that didn't help at all. He searched until he found a blank space in Roman's wall; a part that, thankfully, was not completely covered in posters or pictures. It was a canvas of sorts. Maybe he couldn't conjure anything out of thin air, but if he had a surface to work on, he might be able to get somewhere.

“Okay,” Virgil said, trying to rub the nerves out of him by rubbing his hands together, “I will make...a door. To a place. That I thought up. All by myself.”

Roman picked his head up from where he had just been staring at the ceiling. “Like Narnia?”

“Sure, like Narnia.” He had never seen Narnia.

Roman could see the anxious glint in Virgil's eye, and he smiled sympathetically. “You don't have to do this, you know. The fact that you even offered in the first place is enough.” He sat up so he was sitting on the edge of his bed. “Besides, I'm feeling a little better.”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head, “I want to do it. It sucks having no one there for you, and if I can do something to help, then...why not?” He paused for a second, then said, “Besides, I want to be able to conjure the first ever chimera manticore--”

“Already been done before--”

“--dragon witch.”

Roman gasped. “All four at once?! If you could do that, then I'll just hand over my sash right now!”

They both laughed. It helped for a second.

Then Virgil turned toward the free space. Bare wall. Ripe for imagination. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, trying to imagine what would be behind the door. He thought of nothing else, just a new world. One with grass, and a full moon all the time, with black panthers that...let you ride them or, rainfall that was actually sugar water or, rocks made of diamonds and pebbles made of gold, or something so Romanesque that it knocked his royal _socks_ off.

But when he opened his eyes, there was nothing. Not even the smell of grass. His hands fell to his sides in disappointment.

“Maybe...” Roman’s voice was small, quiet. He had stood up from the bed, and was starting to inch closer to Virgil. “Maybe try to focus on the door, first. Not what's behind it.” He started to place a hand on Virgil's shoulder, but refrained when he saw how tense he was.

“Sorry,” Virgil said quickly, trying to relax. “I just...wanna be able to do it myself, you know?” He looked in Roman’s eyes. “If you influence me, with your...you know…” he gestured around the room vaguely. “Whatever it is this room does, it's like you made it. And I want this to be hands free for you, you know?”

After a second, Roman slowly nodded. He stepped back, towards his bed once again, but he didn't sit. He hadn't remembered that part of his abilities: one snap of the fingers, one sparkle of the eye in someone's direction, and they had an idea that Roman instilled in them. And, as Virgil had said he wanted it to be Roman Idea Free. So, he backed off.

Before Virgil turned back around, Roman made a show of running his fingers across his lips as if to zip them shut. He twisted the metaphorical key and tossed it over his shoulder. Virgil half smiled, and faced the empty wall once again.

He took a deep breath, letting it out long and slow, as he tried to do the impossible: clear his mind. He dismissed the ideas of grandiose castles and exotic creatures bounding along glistening rivers made of liquid gold. Because that wasn't him. All those insane ideas…those were Roman’s ideas. And Virgil wasn't Roman. Virgil didn't think big and bright. He thought small and dark. He thought in deep skies and shooting stars and black cats. He wasn't capable of dreaming up anything as amazing as Roman.

But, wasn't that exactly the _point?_

Virgil clapped his hands together, feeling as if he had just broken through the top layer of ice on a lake, and could finally enjoy the sun above. “I have an idea,” he said. “It's not a...dragon witch chimera manticore, but... It's something.”

Roman didn't say anything, but he nodded encouragingly. 

Virgil shut his eyes again, and closed his hands into soft fists, letting his imagination unfold freely in front of him. He imagined a door. One painted a dark purple, with a golden doorknob. A steady door that wouldn't creak when he pushed on it, one that lead into--

No, he reminded himself, just think of the door.

He heard Roman exhale lightly behind him, and he opened his eyes. 

He had actually created the door. There it was, right in the middle of the space in the wall that had been empty moments before. The paint was a little chipped, and the doorknob was more bronze than gold, but there it was.

“That's-- wow,” said Roman, voice quiet. “What’s behind it?”

Virgil half shook his head. “It's a surprise.” _To you and to me._

He stepped forward, and ran his hand up and down the wood. It was cool. Not cold, not warm, just cool. When he felt the knob, the door inched open. It wasn't locked. Virgil held his breath, and tried to think of something that he'd like, because that'd be easier to imagine, and hopefully Roman ended up liking it too.

But when he opened the door, the only thing he found was disappointment.

It was his room. Down to the detail. The only difference was that the cover on his bed was made of star patterns. The same posters, the same albums, the same curtains...everything.

“Oh,” was all Virgil could manage. His shoulders slumped forward. “Uh, R-roman? Maybe don't come in--”

But it was too late, because Roman had already stepped inside next to Virgil, and was looking around. His face was one of curiosity and wonder, but Virgil knew he was hiding the disappointment underneath.

“This is...glorious,” whispered Roman. He was staring at the ceiling. “I love it.”

Virgil gestured to the room, half annoyed at himself and half annoyed at Roman for pitying him. “How could you love it? It isn't anything new. It's just my room.”

Roman shook his head slowly. He was smiling now. He looked at Virgil, who was now looking at the floor and mumbling about how he shouldn't have even tried because he isn't the creative one, he's the anxious one, and he was sorry for ruining the night further--

So instead of saying anything, he put a finger under Vigil’s chin and guided his head up until he was looking at the ceiling too.

Or, lack of ceiling.

Above them was an expansive night sky, filled with more stars than Virgil had ever seen before. Deep purples and dark blues made up the sky itself, and it was covered in those white painted stars. Somewhere in clusters, and some made out constellations. One was in the shape of what looked like Roman riding a horse.

Every few seconds, a shooting star would launch across the sky, as if begging for someone to make a wish on it. The moon was bright, round, and full, hanging patiently in the sky. And from somewhere, a soft breeze blew, rustling Virgil's hair.

“Look at that,” Roman breathed. He stepped forward, but stopped when he felt a twig snap under his foot. He and Virgil looked down.

The walls of his room had fallen away, revealing a small forest before them. It wasn't as grand as anything Roman could create. In fact, Virgil could see where his imagination ended, falling off into an empty gray space. But that didn't seem to bother Roman at all.

He was positively giddy. “This is amazing, Virgil,” he said. When he reached down, he could actually pick up the grass and let it fly away in the cool breeze. “You did this.” He suddenly sobered, and turned to Virgil, eyes shining. “You did this for me.”

Virgil shrugged, trying to hide his pride by scratching his neck. “It's nothing.”

Was he tearing up? Roman paused for a second, struck by the beauty of what had been created in front of him. His grin was bigger than a child's. Then, he threw his arms around Virgil unexpectedly, holding him tight. Despite being taller, he buried his head in the crook of Virgil's neck. “It's everything. Thank you.”

Virgil was taken aback by the sudden affection, but he hugged Roman back. He was surprised when he leaned into the hug too. “Not a problem, Romano.”

Roman pushed back, fake offended. “And you've ruined it.”

They laughed together.

Then, until the night came and went, they both walked around Virgil's little world, talking about anything they could think of. The sun rose, Patton made breakfast, Logan yawned his way through the morning. Roman sang louder than the day before, and Virgil smiled a few times. The secret shared looks between them that day said it all.

Things were going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment??


End file.
